


Talking To The Moon

by stylesforstiles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Soul searching Louis, Vampire Harry, because the Zouis friendship is key, everyone else is mentioned in passing, except for Zayn, fluff and slight side smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:10:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylesforstiles/pseuds/stylesforstiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A boy with blue eyes, a vampire with red lips, and Paris</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking To The Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Because Harry has too many coats

Louis doesn’t know why he made the sudden decision to pack up and move to Paris, except that deep down he really did. He knew that he couldn’t spend another day staring absently out the window of his flat wondering what the fuck he was doing with his life. He never wanted to be one of those people that needed to ‘find themselves’ so to speak, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything in his life was so utterly beige.

It’s not like he really had anything to complain about either; he had a steady, well-paying job, a good group of friends, a half decent flat, and though he hadn’t had a boyfriend for quite some time, he wasn’t doing terrible in that department either. He could scratch an itch when he needed to.

He doesn’t even know what set him off; nothing special had really gone on. It was just another Friday, but maybe that was the thing. It was _just_ another Friday. Suddenly, he felt panicked and had the immediate need to be anything but the color beige. So he phoned up his mate, Zayn - who had recently moved to Paris to take a job at the Louvre - and had a mini meltdown. Zayn let him finish and spoke in a very calm and soothing voice (Louis thinks he could almost hear him smoking through the phone).

“So, pack a bag. Move to Paris.”

Louis sat on the edge of his couch, worrying his teeth against his lip. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It is easy. It’s Paris.”

Louis rolled his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. “God, that’s such a French thing to say.”

Zayn laughed and Louis could hear him mumbling to someone in the background. “I gotta go, Lou. Just come…you’ll find what you’re looking for here, I promise.”

So over the rest of the weekend Louis quit his job, threw his clothes and necessities into a couple bags, and bought a one way train ticket. He left the keys to his flat with his mate Liam, and now he was sat on a train clutching a lukewarm cup of tea with a mantra of ‘holy fuck’ going round in his head.

*

A couple hours later, Louis got out of the train station and closed his eyes, breathing in the crisp air as the sun started to sink lower and lower, a purple glow taking over the sky.

He already felt better.

He pulled the strap of his bag back up his shoulder from where it slipped down, leaning over to grab the one at his feet. He accidently knocked into something solid and whipped back up to utter an apology. He turned on his heel and darted his eyes around the busy sidewalk. Hmm. No one there that looked like they just got hit by a bag that held his entire life, waiting for him to say sorry.

He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, the flap of a black coat turning a corner. He shrugged and started his short walk to the apartment Zayn had set up for him.

Because Zayn had immersed himself in everything Paris right away, he had already made a lot of friends in the art world and luckily one of them had been looking to sublet their place for a year. So, basically all of Louis’ planning had fallen into place much too easily. He was starting to wonder when the other shoe was going to drop.

He found keys that were left under the mat for him (very trusting. Wow.), turning them into the lock. He pushed the door open and groped around for the light switch until the tiny apartment was illuminated. He walked into the living room and gave a small whistle. There was a stunning view of the Seine, an inviting little balcony, a decent enough kitchen, and a cozy looking bedroom that had French doors opening out into the living room. It was perfect.

He set his bags down and glanced at the kitchen counter, noticing a bottle of wine with a note beside it. He shuffled over to read it - _"Welcome to Paris, enjoy your stay. Make the most of it!"_

Well, he intended to. Tomorrow, that was. Right now, he was going to crack open this bottle of wine and enjoy the peace and quiet out on the balcony.

He slid the door open and sighed happily when he plunked himself down into the oversized chair that the owner had somehow managed to squeeze onto the tiny space. He looked up at the twinkling stars and already knew that he could get used to this.

It could have been hours, it could have been minutes. He had no idea how long he was out there for, but he was suddenly down to his last glass of wine, so it must have been awhile. It was only then that he noticed his neighbor leaning against his own balcony door. He lowered himself in his chair so he could get a better, covert look and then Louis had to suck in a breath because wow…he was fucking luminous.

Even from where Louis was sitting he could tell how pale his skin was. It made his lips look almost a deep ruby red. His hair was a swoop of wavy chocolate-colored curls and he was bundled up in a long, black woolen coat. Good lord, his jaw line looked like it was made of marble. Louis took another swallow of wine that he quickly almost spit out when a deep drawl spoke out in the silence.

“You’re staring.”

Shit. 

Louis sat up in his chair, careful not to jostle his wine “Sorry mate, I…well actually, I don’t really have an excuse. Will 'I’ve almost drank an entire bottle of wine on an empty stomach' work?”

Louis could faintly make out the quirk of a smile on those sinful lips. He picked up the bottle next to his feet, wiggling it back and forth. “I would offer you a glass, but I’m afraid I’m all out. And this is my first night here so I haven’t had a chance to stock up.”

He lifted the arm that was out of Louis’ eye line, raising it in the air to reveal his own glass. “I’m all set, mate. Thank you for the non-offer though.”

He was quiet another moment before speaking over the silence. “So, why Paris?”

Louis leaned back against the chair, taking another sip of wine, running his tongue along his lip to catch an errant drop. “I’m feeling very beige.”

He made a humming noise in acknowledgement, causing Louis to narrow his eyes. “So that’s it? You just accept my answer? It doesn’t even make sense!”

He finally looked at Louis and he almost had to catch his breath. 

Fuck. 

Head-on, he was breathtaking. Almost ethereal in a way. His skin positively glowed. “If you say you’re beige, you’re beige. Who am I to question that?”

Louis nodded, wanting to tear his eyes away from him, but he was transfixed. “I’m not depressed.”

“I know.”

Louis cocked his head to the side. “How?”

He turned his face away again while Louis looked down at his wine, afraid to hear the answer. Though he didn’t really know why. “Depression is dark and bleak and cold. You can feel it from the inside out. You have too much light inside you. Quite like the sun, almost.”

Louis whipped his head up, his lips pursed in a frown. He winked at him. “Goodnight, Louis.”

…

Later that night when Louis was replaying their odd exchange back in his mind, he suddenly sat straight up as he remembered:

He'd never told him his name.

*

The next morning, Louis attempted to make himself coffee and grimaced as he sipped it out on the balcony. He should have known better, being that he was only an expert in tea, but luckily he could grab a more potent cup on his way to visit Zayn. 

He glanced over at the neighboring balcony, wondering what Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious was going to get up to today…and if he was going to see him again later. He had to admit the whole him knowing Louis’ name thing was creeping him out just a tiny bit. Though, not enough to not want to see him again.

He quickly disposed of his coffee and set about getting ready for the day. Which really, only entailed putting on his jeans from the day before, a t-shirt he thinks was clean, an oversized hoodie and a beanie. He clicked the front door shut; once again stealing a glance at the apartment next to him.

Outside, it was the perfect fall day. Sunny, but with a bit of a chill in the air, the leaves in the trees turning the perfect shade of burnt orange. He grabbed a coffee and a croissant from a bakery on the corner and hopped on the metro, quietly humming to himself. For the first time in a long time, he didn’t actually have to do anything. It was strange, but in such a good way.

He had been to the Louvre before when he was younger, so he decided to wander before meeting Zayn for lunch. When Zayn finally found him, he’d had his fill of art. Zayn pulled him into a warm hug, squeezing him close before holding him out at arm’s length.

“Really good to see you, mate. I’m glad you decided to come.”

Louis gave him a lopsided grin. “I’m glad I came to Paris, can’t say the same about this museum. I lost count of all the paintings of dinner parties. It seems a bit excessive.”

Zayn smacked his arm playfully before guiding him towards the escalator leading outside. “You never would have survived the renaissance, Lou.”

“How dare you. People would have been fighting for the chance to paint me in the nude.”

Zayn laughed. “You’re probably not wrong,” he said as he nodded towards a café across the street from them. “They make the best steak frites.”

Louis rolled his eyes as they waited for the light to change. “You should be ashamed to be British right now.”

They crossed over and Zayn picked a table on the sidewalk for them, tossing his smokes down as he shrugged his jacket off. “Mark my words; you’ll be raving by the time we’re done.”

They settled in after ordering a bottle of wine – this, Louis could definitely get used to – and Louis watched as Zayn lit up a smoke. Paris really did suit him; he was so fucking arty, it almost would have been enough to make Louis gag if he didn’t enjoy his company so much.

Once the wine was poured they gave each other a cheers before taking their first sip. Zayn smiled over at him as he closed his eyes, reveling in the taste. Fucking France, you win at winemaking.

“So the apartment was easy enough to find, I hope?”

Louis nodded, stealing another sip. “Oh yah, thanks again for setting it up. The place is brilliant. Already met the neighbor and all that. He was…different.”

“Oh, Harry? Yeah, Nick said he’s friendly enough though, mostly keeps to himself.”

Ah, so it was Harry was it? At least Louis had a name to go with that ridiculously handsome face. “Well that’s a relief. Wouldn’t want to be shacked up next to a serial killer or something similar.”

Zayn shook his head; his forehead creased in confusion. “What, exactly, is something _similar_ to a serial killer?”

“I don’t know Zayn, like…umm, Frankenstein, for instance.”

Zayn cocked an eyebrow. “That’s your best reference? Frankenstein didn’t kill people.”

Louis grabbed his wine, grumbling as he took a gulp. “Fine. Dracula then.”

“Better.” Zayn laughed again at Louis’ annoyance, reaching over to pinch his cheek. “Now that we got that out of the way, what are you going to do with yourself while you’re here? Besides becoming a wino, because that’s just comes with living here.”

Louis shrugged, eyeing up their food as it was placed in front of them. His mouth was already watering. He felt like a British sham as he started to dig in and almost moaned at the first bite while Zayn gave him the ‘I told you so' look. He swallowed, washing it down with a sip of wine. And fuck him, he’s in love.

“Haven’t really thought about it, to be honest. I have enough money to hold off on working for a bit. If I see something I’m interested in, I’ll check it out but I figured I would take a moment to breathe you know? Just enjoy the city. Remember what it's like to feel excited about something.”

Zayn smiled around his own mouthful of heaven. “I’m glad you’re here, Lou.”

“Me too. And I hate that you were right about this steak, for the record.”

Zayn pointed his fork at him. “I bet you’ll be back tomorrow.”

Louis bets he was probably right.

…

Louis spent the rest of the day walking around and window shopping. He spent a good hour in an old bookshop, strolling up and down the aisles, pulling out copies of books he would probably never read, but bought anyway. It was a start.

By the time he stepped out of the shop, the sun was setting and he once again found himself experiencing twilight in Paris. It was remarkable. He found a market and grabbed a few more bottles of wine, with full intentions of drinking one of them down by the river. He ended up on the steps across from the Eiffel Tower, the city darkening around him.

He uncorked the wine and did a quick look around him before taking a sip from the bottle. He figured he couldn’t be any more suspicious than some of the other characters milling about. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, huddling his wine protectively underneath his legs.

“So, it’s safe to say you’ll probably always be drinking when I see you?”

Louis turned his head and was again overwhelmed by pale skin and yards of black wool.

“Well, hello again, Harry.”

He moved to sit down near Louis, but not quite next to him. He mirrored Louis’ position, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye, a smirk on his lips. “I suppose that’s fair, you knowing my name.” He looked down at the bag between Louis’ feet. “So what did you do today?”

Louis was about to say something about being a nosy motherfucker but he actually wanted to keep talking to him, for whatever reason that was. “Well, I went to the Louvre to pick up my mate for lunch, looked at some yawn-inducing art while waiting for him, drank more wine at lunch, then bought some books that will probably remain in this bag. And now I’m drinking more wine.”

Harry looked nothing but amused. “Art is never boring, Louis.”

Louis scoffed, huddling further into his hoodie. “Oh, so you’re the person who likes all those dinner party paintings.”

“I’m actually more of a Munch fan.”

Louis nodded, drinking a bigger gulp of wine. “I should have known.”

He didn’t say anything to that, as if he knew Louis was referring to his dark and broody demeanor in relation to his favorite artist. Instead, he pointed at Louis’ bag. Because again, he was bloody nosy wasn’t he?  

“Well, what books did you get then?”

Louis pushed the bag over to him with his foot, taking in his features as he pulled the books out. He furrowed his eyebrows, lips curving upwards into a full-blown smile that showed off a dimple that was, surely, making a mockery of his moody appearance. He looked over at Louis, holding the first book up. “Count Dracula?”

“I heard its rubbish, but I like the movie well enough. Plus, it’s a classic right?”

Harry ran his hand over the front before putting it back in the bag. “It’s not too bad. You should give it a read.” He stood up suddenly, brushing his hands on his jeans. “I better get going. I’ll see you soon, Louis.”

Louis looked down at his wine bottle, then back up again because he was confused. Soon? 

“Hey-", he trailed off. Christ. Why was Harry a phantom?

Louis grabbed his bags and started his trek home. He had a suspicious feeling that he would be spending the night curled under a blanket reading that stupid bloody book.

*

When Louis thought Harry said 'soon', he figured he would find him lounging in all of his pale glory out on his balcony (preferably shirtless because Louis is only human). Sadly, this was not the case.

Instead, he would catch glimpses of him late at night; because maybe Louis was inordinately curious and sometimes spied on him while he peaked out of the side of his curtain. He should probably stop doing that.

Louis spent his days getting to know Paris. Becoming familiar with different parts of town, going for almost daily lunches with Zayn, buying flowers to brighten up the apartment (because that was apparently a thing now - not being able to pass by a market without grabbing some), stock piling up on wine, and much to his surprise, obtaining more books and actually reading them.

But never…never did he run into Harry during the daylight hours. And really, it didn’t matter, except that it did. Louis was intrigued by him and their conversations that were essentially about nothing.

That was, until one day after a late afternoon lunch with Zayn that was filled with many bottles of Cotes du Rhone that had him stumbling home and ending up on a park bench in Eiffel Tower Park. That was the day he ran into Harry again. He was lying down on the bench, waiting for the tower to light up when he felt a shadow looming over him. He blinked open his eyes and was met with curious looking green ones, with just a hint of concern behind them.

“You know, you shouldn’t be here drunk and alone after dark.”

Louis smiled up at him, bright and goofy. “M’not a child, Harry. Plus, the tower will be on soon. Not so dark, then.” Louis’ smile dimmed, his face scrunched into concentration. Mostly, to focus on Harry’s stark features. God, he was so pale. His veins were visible, creating a map beneath his skin. And his eyes were so intensely green that they were almost lighting up the park on their own. He frowned suddenly. “Are you a vampire, Harry?”

Instead of answering, he flicked his eyes over Louis’ profile, stopping briefly on his lips, before meeting his eyes. “C'mon, I want to take you somewhere.”

Louis pondered this briefly in his drunken mind. Should he be going with him? However, the larger part of his mind was recklessly fueled by alcohol, so he rolled himself off the bench and to his feet, following behind Harry to the metro.

He sat across from him and they didn’t speak, just caught each other’s wandering eyes from time to time. Louis was about to ask where they were going when they finally came to their destination. They got out to the street and Louis raised his eyebrows, stopping in the middle of the street. He threw a look at Harry, his voice filled with nervous laughter. “Pere-Lachaise? Look, Harry. I will go in there with you but you better swear, to whatever god you prefer, that no one will be rising out of their graves tonight.”

Harry shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “Cross my heart.”

Louis didn’t pretend to not notice that there was no ‘hope to die’ tagged onto the end of that.

They got up to the gates and Harry stood there waiting after knocking. A moment later, a bloke with a shock of blonde hair came walking over to unlock it and stepped aside to let them in.

Harry clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks Niall.” He nodded his head towards Louis, “I brought a friend, is that alright?”

Niall waved him off, tossing a friendly grin over to Louis. “Course it’s alright, just lock up when you leave. Cheers.”

Louis watched him bound off and turned back to Harry for their next move.

“This way.”

They maneuvered through the rows of intricate gravestones and crypts until Harry reached their destination. He stood off to the side while Louis read the headstone in front of him.

“Harry Styles,” he said quietly. He looked back over at Harry. “Hmm, so I was right at least.”

Harry still kept himself at a distance from Louis. “You’re very calm about all of this.”

“I’m not worried. You haven’t attempted to eat me, which frankly is both soothing and insulting at the same time. I’m delicious, Harry.”

That comment finally had Harry tearing his eyes away from him, coughing into his fist.

Louis got lost in his thoughts for a few minutes, when he found himself chewing his thumbnail in worry. “Wait…you don’t actually eat people do you, Harry?”

Harry looked amused once again. “No, Louis, I don’t eat people.”

Louis felt a shock of relief wash over him. “So umm…why did you bring me here?”

He stepped a bit closer, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The material today looked warm and fuzzy. Louis wanted to touch it.

He didn’t.

“I don’t know, really…you remind me a lot of myself when I was…you know...”

“Alive?”, Louis provided.

Harry chuckled. “Yes, I felt beige too. Like I was always waiting for something amazing to come along, like I was missing out on something big, you know? But then I realized it was already there. Life, Louis. You decide when you want to change it. It’s only beige if you allow it to continue that way.”

Louis had his arms crossed over his chest, listening to him intently. “So you became a vampire?”

“More or less, I suppose. But you, Louis...you’re already doing better than me because you did something about it.”

Now it was Louis’ turn to laugh. “I’m pretty sure you did something about it too, Harry. Like, a major something.”

Harry stared blankly at the headstone. “Things were different then. Nick…”

Louis cut him off. “Wait, Nick? Like Nick who lent me his apartment? That Nick?”

“Yes?”

“I think I need to sit down.” Louis looked at the headstones sticking out of the ground around him, “Maybe not here.”

Harry inched closer to him, his hands briefly reaching out before dropping to his sides. “I…I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to take in. I just thought….I knew that I could trust you.”

Louis shook his head, dragging a hand through his hair. “You can. And it’s not you; that was a bit obvious, Harry. I mean, the all-black clothing with the long black coats? You might want to throw a print on or something, mate.” Harry pulled at the hem of his t-shirt, frowning down at it. Louis smiled faintly, “It was more the Nick thing. Guess I’m just in a bit of a shock to know that there’s more of you out there.”

They stood there facing each other, unmoving, the wind softly blowing through the trees around them. Harry watched Louis with an intent gaze, but came off shy when he spoke up again.

“I like you, Louis. And I’d like to help you find whatever it is that you’re looking for here in Paris.”

Louis moved over towards him until they were a few inches apart, and even though he was a very tactile person, he didn’t know what the boundaries were. So he offered him one of his blinding, crinkly eyed smiles.

“I quite like you, too. So, let’s see Paris together.”

*

The good thing about having a vampire friend is that Louis got to see how amazing the city was at night. Louis still explored during the day, spending the majority of his lunches with Zayn, where sometimes, he found himself daydreaming about how Zayn would actually make the perfect vampire - " _he does have the face for it..._ "- and then Zayn would throw a chip at him, giving him a curious look. “Are you feeling alright? You’re staring, you weirdo.”

Maybe he was a weirdo. He was cruising around the many different graveyards in the city, sitting at cafés well into the early morning hours, and dragging Harry inside Notre Dame to prove to him that he wouldn’t burst into flames if he was inside a church. That couldn’t be normal.

Harry followed him inside, his lips spread into an amused grin. “You know that I wear a cross necklace everyday, right? And that most of these vampire myths are just that – myths.”

Louis paused to light one of the candles, mumbling a little prayer before turning with his hands on his hips, his voice low, “Well, how would I know that, Harold? It’s not like I’ve seen you naked or anything.”

Harry swallowed, “I don’t think you’re supposed to talk about nudity in church, Lou.”

Louis threw his hands up. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

“Nor are you supposed to take the Lord's name in vain, I think.”

Louis turned on his heel, stalking towards the exit, muttering under his breath. “Strangest fucking vampire ever.”

They continued on like that for weeks; the flirty talk, the dancing around one another because Louis really didn’t know how one went about a romance with someone who has been alive for decades. Or if he even could, for that matter. He still had yet to make skin to skin contact with Harry and it’s not exactly like he could ask Zayn for advice – “Funny question mate, but have you ever shagged a vampire?” To which, knowing Zayn, he probably has.

But it was just that…it has been months and Harry was horrifically fit in all his pale, blue-veined glory and Louis could practically feel the _need_ strumming under his skin. He was certain that Harry could sense it too, as he was acting increasingly twitchy around Louis.

Louis had especially noticed it that night as they lounged around Louis’ apartment, drinking wine (of course) and listening to another new band that Harry had recently discovered.

Louis was lying on the carpet tapping his fingers against his chest to the beat of the music, trying to ignore the fact that the song was well, about sex, but the little glances that Harry kept casting at him were so god damn distracting that Louis couldn’t take it anymore.

He sat up slowly and got to his feet, walking over to a very hesitant looking Harry. Before he started to overthink it, he crawled into Harry’s lap, straddling his waist, causing both of them to gasp, frozen in place.

Louis’ eyes were wide as he ran his hands up and down Harry’s chest, pausing at the nape of his neck. “You’re so cold.”

Harry opened his mouth, most likely to tell him to stop, so Louis leaned forward, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth to shut him up. He immediately felt Harry’s hands clench into his sides and run up his back, pushing Louis in closer. Harry deepened the kiss, and Louis quite frankly melted into it; this was probably the hottest kiss he’d ever had in his life. Harry’s hands were everywhere, his mouth moving to Louis’ jaw, and then his neck, where Louis had a quick flash of ‘fangs’ in his mind, but it didn’t last long because Harry was picking him up and walking them over to the bedroom.

He placed Louis back down on his feet and practically tore off their shirts, and fuck if that wasn’t insanely arousing. Louis took charge now, pushing Harry onto the bed and fixed himself back around his waist, marveling at the miles of milky white skin underneath him.

Harry bit down on his lip, arching up against him. “Louis, Louis, Louis…I need…you…inside me…”, he quickly breathed out.

Louis’ hands stilled and he focused intently on Harry. For someone who usually looked so serene and quiet, he now looked like he was coming undone at the seams.

“Harry…are you…is this okay?”

He nodded frantically, “I’m fine, I’m fine…it’s just...umm, heightened senses.”

Louis let out a ragged huff, suddenly not sure what to do with his hands. “Fuck. Okay. No pressure or anything right?”

Harry ran his hands up Louis’ arms. He shivered at the cool touch. “You already feel so fucking amazing, Lou.”

“Reckon I should probably feel like a necrophiliac”, he joked. Yes, a very bad and terrible joke, but he needed to calm down before he passed out.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Not funny.”

Louis smiled weakly. “Sorry. Bit nervous, is all.”

Harry pulled him back down for a kiss, whispering against his lips. “Don’t be. I’m still Harry,” he paused a moment. “And if I had a working heart, it would only beat for you.”

Louis laughed into his mouth. “Oh, bloody hell, Harry.”

But then Harry rolled his hips up and ran his tongue along Louis’ collarbone, causing his mind to get back into the moment.

Louis could do this, no problem.

…

They huddled under the covers hours later, both of them thoroughly and pleasantly orgasmed out. Louis placed a hand over Harry’s heart, still awed by the fact that he couldn’t feel anything beating underneath his fingers.

Harry covered his hand, shocking Louis with his frosty touch. That was something that was going to take some getting used to. Louis caught a flash of worry in Harry’s eyes. He ran a thumb across his bottom lip, rubbing softly against his cheek after, his eyes sweeping over Harry’s face.

“What is it, Harry?”

“I don’t know how…I don’t know how to do this? I’ve never been in love before.”

Louis grabbed his hand, kissing each of his fingertips. He knew what Harry meant, the uncertainty of it all. How does someone who is supposed to live forever, love someone on a time limit? This wasn’t like the movies, there was no magical solution. But Louis wasn’t ready to think about that, he had just found Harry, they had years to figure it out. For now, he wanted to live in the moment - the one thing he had meant to be doing when he made the decision to move to Paris.

“I don’t know either. How do you know I won’t be a fit 90 year-old man? Don’t rule anything out yet, babe.”

Harry threw his head back, his laughter filing the quiet room. “This is true. I mean, I would know, I look smashing for 90.” His settled back down, his face serious again. “But, are you sure, Lou?”

Louis toyed with the curls by his ears. “As sure as Bella Swan.”

Harry moved to roll out of bed, Louis clinging to his back choking on laughter. He turned to look over his shoulder, lips pouted out, “I will not put up with Twilight jokes for the next century.”

Louis muffled giggles into his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…I want to love you in Paris, Harry. I’m sure.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Louis wrapped his arms around him, burying his face into his neck. He nipped at his earlobe, his voice quiet.

“No…I’m just lucky.”

Because falling in love with a vampire was the least beige thing Louis could ever do.  


End file.
